“To show His Highness the Landgrave one of my pictures. For I am a painter.”
“If it is a painter that you are,” said the Captain, “and from Flanders, come in, and I will lead you to my master.”
When he had been brought before the Landgrave, Ulenspiegel saluted thrice and again.
“May your Highness deign,” said he, “to excuse my presumption in daring to come and lay before these noble feet a picture I have made for your Highness, wherein I have had the honour to portray Our Lady the Virgin in her royal attire.”
And then after a moment’s pause:
“It may be that my picture may please your Highness,” he continued, “and in that case I am sufficiently presumptuous to hope that I might aspire even unto this fine chair of velvet, where sat in his lifetime the painter that is lately deceased and ever to be regretted by your Magnanimity.”
Now the picture which Ulenspiegel showed him was very beautiful, and when the Landgrave had inspected it, he told Ulenspiegel to sit down upon the chair, for that he would certainly make him his Court Painter. And the Landgrave kissed him on both cheeks, most joyously, and Ulenspiegel sat down on the chair.
“Of a truth you are a very talkative fellow,” said the Landgrave, looking him up and down.
“May it please your Lordship,” answered Ulenspiegel, “Jef—my donkey—has dined most excellently well on thistles, but as for me I have seen nothing but misery these three days past, and have had nothing to nourish me but the mists of expectation.”
“You shall soon have some better fare than that,” answered the Landgrave. “But where is this donkey of yours?”